She knows
by J. Giglio
Summary: "She knows they made a promise to each other - to quit the game, to move on, to leave the job to the others." Takes place before Depths.


**A/N**: This is my first fanfiction in a long time. I'm rating this M just in case - but I'd consider it a "heavy T".

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**She knows**

She knows they made a promise to each other - to quit the game, to move on, to leave the job to the others. But she can't let it go, and it hurts her to know that going back means dragging him back too.

Still, she accepts it. The moment her cellphone rings, and she sees who's calling, she already knows she's saying yes, no matter the request. The familiar voice is now devoid of its cheerful tone. There's no glimpse of his old, playful self when he speaks, the one that shines through when it's just them, old friends.

Today, they meet because he has something to ask. To ask of her and of his best friend. He knows - she knows he does - how much it means to be called back. She also knows that accepting this request goes against everything she's worked hard for, at least for the last couple of years. They have the normal life they've both craved for, the one someone like him would take for granted and the kind that she never thought someone like her would have the chance to have. She says she can only do this if she can share it with him. But already the comfortable apartment, their lazy and adorable dog, the essays and experiments... Its all fading away. In her mind's eye, there's only the mission. Like in the old days.

Then she comes back to reality, and comes back home, and she sees _him,_ standing before her, looking confused. His green eyes soon become angry, then frustrated, then sad, and it takes her a lot of time to make sure he understands why she's doing this. It won't take long, she assures. It's the best we've got, she says. It's the only way, she argues. But she's not sure she means what she says, and he can read in her eyes that, despite loving their normal life, she would never quite settle for _normal._ Not really. He agrees, in the end - it's his best friend and his girlfriend asking him the impossible, and yet he agrees. She can see that he only does so because she wants to go, and that trying to keep her away would only hurt her, hurt them.

The following days are the most painful she's ever lived. He's quiet, he's not eating properly, he's estranged. She copes with it the best she can. She decides to give him space, thinking that this way, maybe, he'll chase away his own demons.

Now it's their last night together - their last hours before she has to go, their last hours before she dies - and she can't leave him be. They don't talk. She simply comes around the diner table and kisses him, and her eyes are shut because otherwise the tears might actually run down her cheeks and reach their lips, and before she knows it there's salt in their kiss and she doesn't know if it's hers of his. But he's standing know, his arms around her, holding her close, and everything just makes sense. Not the plan, not what's coming. But everything they were and everything they are. He tries to break away, to speak, but she knows he's trying to reason with her, and this night is not the time for reason. So she silences him with another kiss, and soon they're a mess of tangled shirts and broken sights.

She wants him to have a good memory of their last night. A memory good enough that will make him forget what she's putting him through. They fall, rather then lay, on their bed, and she breaks away for a moment and smiles. His freckles are gone and he's taller, but he's still the same boy she met almost six years ago. When he smiles back and brushes her hair away from her face, it's almost as if they're back to their first months together, enjoying every second they could between missions, school, homework and family. In a way, this night was exactly that: stolen seconds of guilty joy.

He pulls her closer again and she allows herself to dwell on the moment. She repeats this is a sort of parting gift, but she can't detach from their kisses her own feelings, her own sorrows and her own fears. She knows he feels it, in the way he kisses her, the way he touches her, the way he caresses her.

Melancholy gives out to despair, as if both of them knew the world would crumble the very next morning. His hands are holding her so tight it's nearly painful, and her nails are biting into his skin and she just wants to remember this, remember _him_ in every possible way. His scent, the hums he makes in the back of his throat, the way his lips feel against her skin. He kisses her neck and she shivers - it's like it's their first time.

Her body aches for his, aches for his touch, and when they meet she doesn't fight back the tears. He tries to keep his pace, tries do calm down and take his time, but she doesn't want him to. She wants him, she needs him, and he's the only one who can make her pain go away, and he's the only one who can help her make peace with the path she chose, even if he's against it. Because he's that kind of person. And that's one of the many reasons she loves him so much and that's why she needs to make him see the stars one last time.

They spend the night rediscovering each other's body, researching each other's skin, finding old scars. Every sensation is new. She feels sleepy and tired, but she doesn't want to give in. There will be time for rest later, but now she just wants to stay with him, and he's looking at her as if they've just met. Not like the first time they actually met, but like the time in the desert, when they had all but forgotten themselves and gravitated towards one another. She trusted him then, and in truth she would never trust anyone the same way.

The sun is up before she knows it. They still have some hours before the scheduled time for the meeting, but they need to get up. Get going. Get ready. She  
opens the wardrobe and finds, without difficulty, her old uniform. It still fits, and it's not a surprise, as she's been trying it on for the good part of the last years, wanting to be ready if the situation ever required. It feels strange, though, to be under his scrutiny wearing the green ensemble once again. As she ties back her hair, he smiles - the anger was replaced by a calm sadness again - and she fumbles with his hair before kissing his forehead. It's time to go, and staying will only make it worse.

She's hurting him, and she knows it.


End file.
